


Private Trip

by plotholes_ahead



Category: Ascendancy: Chaos Rising - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Chaos Rising Spoilers, Ficlet, Jealousy, M/M, Vague Depiction of Sexcapades, aides be salty, all aides fall for their CO's, its in the manual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plotholes_ahead/pseuds/plotholes_ahead
Summary: Not everyone holds Senior Captain Thrawn in such high regard as does General Ba'kif.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Supreme General Ba'kif
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	Private Trip

**Author's Note:**

> This is from the POV of Ba’kif's aide, set prior to the start of the book.

  
He sat in the lavish suite, tapping his foot impatiently on the polished floor, a look of utter disgust plastered on his blue face. He’d been summoned by the Supreme General himself... an hour ago.

The thought had crossed his mind multiple times that perhaps it had been an accidental summons, maybe one transmitted after the General had unceremoniously bumped or sat on his questis.

A bitten off cry from the other room drew his attention sharply to the right. He could see their shadows moving on the other side of the frosted glass, one being bent at the waist while the other plowed into him from behind.

“Oh, Gods yes, keep going... _keep going.”_

 _No, please don’t._ The aide thought dryly.

Despite the blurred image, their shapes were distinguishable through the mildly translucent double doors of the General’s bedroom. The one taking it in the ass was definitely not Ba'kif, because his beloved — his General — would never allow someone like _him_ to —

He jumped as a hand slapped against the glass, streaking downward and leaving a print behind that was anything but inconspicuous.

When he had been asked to request Senior Captain Thrawn’s presence, on behalf of the General, for a “private trip” to his luxury apartment, he was not expecting this. In fact, he had been expecting Thrawn to receive a verbal lashing, and very much hoping he’d be there to witness it.

That had not been the case. Instead, he’d been shooed from the suite within minutes of Thrawn’s arrival, only to be called back a while later to no welcoming party whatsoever. He watched for a moment longer as the more noble man thrusted into the other, unable to subdue the longing that bubbled inside him at the sight.

That had been him, once.

He looked away, burying his face in his questis.

The “aide” as he was called, because apparently that’s all he was, had tried, many times, to remind the General that favoritism within the ranks was wildy inappropriate.

Favoritism, that is, unless he was coupling with his aide. Then it was sanctioned affection.

Unfortunately, that had only occurred once, over a year ago at an elaborate celebration following the Defense Hierarchy Council's addition of “Supreme” to the General’s title. It may have been a drunken mistake that the two of them had silently agreed to never speak of, but the aide still touched himself to the memory of Ba'kif driving him into his desk until he was nothing but a spasm-ridden mess against its cool surface.

 _“‘Kif,”_ Thrawn whined. “Faster, please.”

 _“Gods,_ Thrawn.” The General’s voice was low and desperate; he must be close. “You feel so _so_ good.”

The aide rolled his eyes. What did Thrawn have that he didn’t?

A stunning physique?

An impressive long range shot?

A background of extensive military accomplishments?

The aide scoffed. _Whatever._

He tried to ignore Thrawn’s escalating cries of, “Harder, 'Kif! Fuck me _harder!”_

There was no reason why he should be jealous of Thrawn. He was aide to the most powerful man in the Chiss Ascendancy Defense Force. There was no higher honor. What was more, he had access to all the inside filth on pretty much anyone he wanted.

A wanton groan, a unfettered cry, and the others were finally finished, their blue bodies collapsing against the glass as they stood there, catching their breath. Fond, comfortable chuckles made their way to the aide’s ears and he made a face, mocking the sound.

Let Ba’kif fuck Thrawn until he was pale in the face. He’d watch the Captain, do some digging and one day, he’d make his move. And then Ba’kif would be all his, without a paltry merit adoptive to stand in his way.

The frosted double doors swung open and Ba’kif appeared fully dressed, rank plaque askew and silver-blue hair in disarray. His cheeks were still flushed a deep shade of purple.

The General spoke his name, shocked and mildly irritated. “What are you doing here?”

He stood. “You called for me, sir,” the aide reminded him, in his most respectful tone. After all, it wasn’t the General he disliked.

Thrawn manifested at Ba’kif’s side, gracefully stepping around him to exit the suite. They whispered some indistinctive dialogue, no doubt full of empty promises and pseudo affections, before Thrawn squeezed the General’s hand and moved away.

The aide’s scowl deepened, flushing in barely contained fury. Then, on his way out, the man had the audacity to offer him a kind smile as he passed. The aide’s eyes narrowed; he’d get what he deserved one day.

Some people never got what they deserved. The aide was one of those people. He deserved the General, not Captain what’s-his-face; a low life, a no-named, no-good —

“What do you have for me?” Ba’kif’s now professional and composed voice asked.

“A message from Syndic Mitth’urf’ianico,” the aide supplied, turning toward him.

Ba’kif groaned, accepting the questis. “What does _he_ want?”

The aide smirked as he strode over to the decorated bar cart, every kind of high end wine and expensive liquor atop it. But he knew which was Ba’kif’s favorite.

Catching a glimpse of the General’s downtrodden expression, he suggested over his shoulder. “Whatever it is can surely wait until tomorrow.”

It was about time the Syndicure realized they did not have the authority to govern how the military operated. The older man let out an exhausted sigh and the aide convinced himself it was not due to him expending himself with Thrawn. “I suppose you’re right. I’m not in the mood to deal with any shifty politicians tonight, anyway.”

At least they agreed on one thing: the members from the Mitth family were nothing but conniving snakes and the Ascendancy would do well to strip them of all power.

Well, perhaps Ba’kif didn’t think that about Thrawn, but his aide did.

No matter, he and Ba’kif were alone together once again.

The aide handed his General a Csillian Comet with an encouraging, slightly suggestive smile.

_As it should be._  


**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, I couldn't even get past the prologue before this idea popped into my head and Thra'kif was born. This idea wouldn't leave me alone, so here it is. Thanks to Jessko for the ship name.


End file.
